Reassurance
by Shadow Griffin
Summary: That explosion had really hit Greg hard—not matter what he said to deny it. With Grissom's offer fresh in his head, he tries to find a way to deal. Grissom helps it along. NO SLASH


**Title:** Reassurance

**Summary:** That explosion had really hit Greg hard—not matter what he said to deny it. With Grissom's offer fresh in his head, he tries to find a way to deal.

**Disclaimer:** Same as always: Me no own, you no sue, you send the feds, I'll say screw you. I DO own the plot of this story and the actually word here, so NO STEALING!

Hey, all! This was a very random thing that I decided to do after watching 'Inside the Box' on my new CSI dvds. This was a thirty minute effort, so pleas leave CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. Flames will be used to light my candles, tar and feathers will be used against you.

Hope you enjoy! Read and review, please! And, as always, feel free to PM or email me anytime!

Yours,

~Eliana

The old, noisy, out-of-place clock on the top of the off-white break room wall read 12:55. The night shift was something that Grissom had grown accustom to over the months that he had worked in the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Long hours, never-ending cases, constant paperwork, and stress were the things that made up his daily life ever since he had been placed here all those years ago and, oddly, he didn't really ever recall being bothered by it. He spent thirteen hours a day working, five sleeping, three checking on his team, and the rest focusing on keeping Ecklie happy enough so the man wouldn't shut them down. Ecklie hadn't ever given any real indication that he even cared what went on in the lab—until a few weeks ago.

The night that the explosion happened, everything was thrown into chaos. Thirteen cases had contaminated evidence (or no evidence at all), the techs suffered a collective forty-three minor injuries, the DNA/Chem lab had been totally wiped out, and young Greg Sanders was hospitalized for the harsh burns that had mutilated his back. After a month of slow hospitalization, Greg was released for the hospital with strict orders to not cause extensive stress to his neck or back. While the burns had begun to heal nicely, it was going to be at least another few months before the tech could say that he was almost fully healed.

It was obvious to everyone in the lab that, no matter what type of excuses, lame jokes, or subject-changers Greg came up with, he was in an incredible amount of pain. At the first break of the night (about 9:00), Grissom had caught a glimpse of Greg and Nick in the locker room. Nick had just arrived from a scene and Greg, much to his boss's surprise, was trying to open a bottle of pills rather unsuccessfully. After a couple minutes of watching the boy's pain-filled expression at the motion, Nick had been kind enough to take the bottle from him, twist the cap open, and hand it back without so much as a word. Greg, trying to save what dignity he had left, accepted the bottle with a weak smile and pulled out two of the small pills, swallowing them dry. They were pain pills, Grissom figured out later when his lab rat returned to his new little glass box. The boy's posture was much more relaxed and calm after taking them.

Out of an unexplainable parental pulling in his mind, Grissom had made it a point to find some sort of excuse to walk down the DNA lab's hall every hour or so just so he could peek into the younger man's lab room and see how he was doing. Their little conversation a couple days ago didn't escape Grissom's mind—if anything, that talk of theirs was probably why the older man's mind wouldn't let him get a second's rest.

"_Greg, your hands are shaking."_

He had said it so matter-of-factly that it almost felt like a slap in his own face. Greg had immediately tensed up, the pain obviously a strong protest from the movement as Greg stared hard at the appendages, almost as if he was ordering them to be still.

"…_No they're not."_

Grissom had felt that pull then, screaming at him. The tech had unconsciously tightened his grip on the report, making the already visible tremors grow in force until the entire paper was shaking like it was blowing in a soft wind. Greg turned to look up at him, eyes begging his boss to just drop the subject and move on with the case. His luck didn't hold out. Being sure to avoid any sore spots, Grissom reached over and took the paper from his tech's grip, placing the sheet on top of the others he held against his own chest before giving him another soft-spoken command.

"_Hold your hands out."_

Greg had complied, once again staring at his hands with such determination that it hurt. He looked defeated after a moment and tried again, glancing at his boss's face, but unable to keep the gaze steady.

"_They've been shaking ever since…"_

The twenty-seven-year-old couldn't bring himself to complete the statement, so settled instead for pointing to where his old lab was. Grissom turned slightly to view exactly what it was that Greg was pointing at. There was a clear view of the old lab from here, and the elder felt himself unconsciously bite his tongue due to hold in the curses he wanted to say because his own stupid mistake. When he looked back at Greg, he was met with the same shy glances.

"_I can't really make it stop…"_

"_Is it affecting your work?"_

It was the only thing Grissom could bring himself to say. There was so much more he wanted to ask, but he didn't exactly know where his boundaries were with the young man. Sure, they worked together, but Greg was Greg and he wasn't sure how personal questions would go with the younger man.

"_Well, if I was a bomb expert, maybe."_

It was a poor diversionary tactic, an obvious sign that things were not alright with him and that he was not where he needed to be mentally or physically. Under any other circumstances, Greg was such a good deceiver of what he really felt that Grissom had felt the need to watch the other's behavior for hours on end just to figure out what he was thinking. It was hard reading Greg when he didn't want to be read. Now, however, was different. He didn't try to change the subject again. Instead, he just lowered his eyes from his boss's and gave a quiet reply.

"_No, I… I think I've got it under control."_

He could feel Grissom watching him and, ironically, he felt like a fly caught in a spider web. Acting against his better instincts, Grissom chose to let the subject drop for the moment.

"_It'll stop."_

His voice was so reassuring then that it had drove Greg to actually meet his boss's gaze and hold it, lightly swimming eyes boring into his superior's.

"_If you need me, I'll be around."_

It was more of an invitation that just an informal statement. Grissom was offering his listening ear when Greg was ready, and the tech couldn't help but feel the awful (but familiar) sting behind his eyes. He just gave Grissom a silent nod and watched the man leave before turning his eyes back to his hands. He curled them into fists, noting with frustration that the shaking still hadn't stopped. He figured Grissom hadn't noticed. He was wrong.

That had been almost a full week ago… or, if Grissom had counted right in his head, five days ago counting today. He was afraid that this was going to have serious repercussions on him and his team, and that was the reason that every hour he would wander down the DNA hall to glance into Greg's lab. To an outsider, it would sound like he was an obsessed, over-worked, harassing maniac, but it was no huge change to him. He had done the same for all of his team members when they had hit hard times.

He hadn't asked for this. He hadn't asked to become a supervisor or a mentor or a guiding hand to anyone, but he had taken the assignment without a complaint and, now that everything was the way that it was, he found that didn't want it any other way. He had taken charge of this team and made it his responsibility to keep them all competent and calm. Greg was the youngest, a little over half of Grissom's age, and the boy had done everything he could (and actually still was doing everything he could) to make Grissom proud. Greg had made it his unspoken goal to impress the man with everything he did. He didn't have to try.

Grissom wasn't a family man. He didn't have a hidden wife or kids like so many of the suspects that were brought screaming and cursing into the interrogation hall… but he did have a family. His team was his family—the only real family he had. He secretly looked at them all as his sons and daughters (as weird as it sounded), and he felt that parental pull with Greg. The boy strove to do anything and everything that he could to please his elder and made sure that every DNA sample was washed, complete, orderly, and printed no more than three hours after he got it. Personally, Grissom thought it was amusing.

That was probably why he found himself (once again) putting his book down on the break room table, pouring out his excess coffee, and stretching when he read 1:00 on the old clock in the break room. He made up a quick excuse in his head that he would tell anyone who asked why he was traversing the hall again and started off down the palely lit corridor toward the DNA lab. Greg's new lab was more out of the way than the old one had been, simply for the fact that there was nowhere else to put him.

The journey was the photo-copied image of every other journey that Grissom took in the lab every single day. Twenty feet to the left of the break room, take a right turn. Follow that hall until you reached ballistics. Take a left hand turn followed immediately by a right hand turn. Walk thirty feet. This was the DNA wing.

The DNA lab was probably the least populated area of the crime lab, and it usually harbored loud music, dancing technicians, and witty comments.

There were none.

That was the first thing that Grissom noticed was off. Passing the first lab, he noted with slight surprise that Hodges wasn't at his station. What the probable reason was was that the tech had gone to deliver some of his results to Catherine who was currently running the bank-heist-cop-killing case with Sara and Warrick. They had made it a point to give Greg less work than they did David, making the silent justification that Greg wasn't up to an insane load was looking more and more run-down by the day. That didn't mean that Greg didn't get things to test- on the contrary, the tech probably got more DNA and work than any other technician (including Hodges), but his team gave him less than normal.

Even with the absence of Hodges in trace, there should still have been some sort of annoying, loud music somewhere in the vicinity of the lab.

There wasn't any.

The next to last room on the right side of the hall was Greg's DNA lab that he was currently using. Grissom glanced in through the open glass door and was silently pleased to see the young man sitting on a chair next to his table. What he saw when he looked closer, however, made him stop and do a double-take.

It wasn't just the boy's hands that were shaking- his whole body was lightly trembling under the loose lab coat and, even though his head was turned so Grissom couldn't see his face, he could see the pale skin of one of the younger's cheeks. The parlor wasn't what shocked him. The fact that his cheek was shining in the light of the microscope did. He couldn't believe it.

It took Grissom a moment to find his voice, and it took him a second of licking his dry lips and quirking an eyebrow before he finally made his presence known.

"Greg?"

The reaction was immediate. He heard the younger's breath catch sharply as he immediately sat up straight, the motion causing him obvious pain. Greg was taking in trembling, rough breaths as he tried to find his voice and hide the fact that he was doing what he swore no man should ever do. Grissom made no move to actually enter the room yet, and chose instead to stand just outside of it as he waited for a reply. When none came, he tried again.

"Greg? Are you alright?"

The question was so overused that Grissom felt almost foolish asking it, but he had decided to try and let the young man convince him that he was doing something other than crying.

"Y-yeah."

The reply was broken and whispered… and Grissom knew exactly why.

"Then why are you crying, Greg?" he questioned gently, trying to slowly prod open the tech's shell.

Greg was an interesting person. He was as open as a book when it came to friends, new people, and family, but he was the most difficult person to figure out when he was upset. He was the kind of person that denied you everything if you flat out demanded it. It took gentle prying to open the walls in Greg Sanders's mind, but Grissom knew that there was very little prying that needed to be done here.

This time, Greg didn't bother to try and reply. Instead, he brought a gloved hand up to angrily wipe at his eyes, away from his boss's view. It was then that Grissom decided to make his entrance into the lab, making sure to make some sort of sound so that the boy knew that he was approaching. When he got close enough, Grissom could see why his tech was so upset.

Greg was gripping a metal scupula in his left hand so hard that the knuckles of his gloved hand had turned a bloodless white. On the floor were the remains of a beaker with liquid pooled around it.

It didn't take a genius to piece together the situation that had occurred. Greg had been preparing a solvent with a beaker of phosphate buffered saline and was getting a scupula of some sort of chemical (from the looks of the substance in the bottle it was powdered sodium hydroxide) when the beaker dropped from his hand and shattered on the floor. It had obviously upset him that he couldn't hold onto the beaker, and, personally, Grissom couldn't blame him.

The final straw for Grissom was that Greg had hidden his face from him, yet the tears were now making the full journey from his eyes to the bottom of his chin.

Enough was enough.

Grissom moved swiftly and calmly, gently prying Greg's hand open enough to remove the scupula. He put it on the table next to the closed bottle of sodium hydroxide with a soft clatter of metal to stone and, using both hands, gently grabbed Greg by the shoulders and carefully pulled him to his feet. If the tech had anything to say against it, he didn't, and instead kept his face covered with a shaking hand as his boss led him carefully out of the room.

He didn't bother to look where Grissom was taking him. Anywhere but that horrid lab room was good enough for him. He clamped his eyes shut as they walked through the lab hallways, drawing comfort and confidence from the careful hands that were now resting on his upper arms, slowly pushing him forward and in the direction that Grissom wanted him to go. Grissom could see everything, and quickly silenced Hodges who came walking down the hall. The trace tech had opened his mouth to inquire what was going on, but a hard look from Grissom immediately closed his mouth and made him move to the side of the hall so the two of them could pass.

Grissom led Greg past him without so much as another glance to the man, turning the tech next to him down the next left hand corridor to his office. Archie was the next person they encountered, but he didn't need the look from Grissom. He moved out of the way quickly of his own accord, face messed up in a look of concern when he saw Greg. The obvious first concern in anyone's mind who saw a person like this would be that they were hurt in some way, that they had an injury to their face that they were trying to hide. While Greg did sport the bandage on his right cheek, that burn was already healing.

A final surge put Greg in his boss's office where he was sat down on the soft sofa as Grissom went back to shut the door. A closed door was a generic sign to all of his CSIs and techs that he was occupied and was not to be bothered, and he hoped that the message relayed to everyone's brains today. The last thing the Greg needed was to be a spectacle for the lab.

The CSI made his way around the back of the desk (around the seemingly millions of specimen jars that he had) and found a box of tissues that he kept for allergies. Grabbing it, he also made sure to grab one of the unopened bottles of water that he kept hidden under his desk before he walked back around, slowly sitting next to Greg who still hadn't moved. The young tech was now gasping for breath, trying to force himself to stop crying before he had even started, but his body gave him an order to release the pressure that had built up and he found that it was hard to breathe.

Grissom put the box and bottle on the floor at his feet and reached a warm hand forward to place it on his tech's shoulder, putting slight pressure down. It wasn't enough to cause any type of pain, but the flinch from his tech told him that it was a surprise.

"Greg? Let's get these gloves off, okay?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice as level as he could as he reached down to pull the rubber gloves off of Greg's hand. It came off without trouble, but when Grissom moved to take Greg's hand from his face, the boy's hand was steadfast.

He was ashamed. Greg was ashamed from crying in front of his boss, his idol, and he was ashamed that Grissom was actually seeing him like this.

"There's no shame, Greg," Grissom told him. When he tried to move his hand again, he cooperated, letting the hand fall and instead hung his head. The second glove was pulled off as well, and both were tossed to the floor.

"Now the lab coat."

He let Greg remove the oversized whit coat on his own, personally a little too worried about hurting the boy. Greg silently hand it to him, and Grissom tossed it over the other side of the couch. They sat in silence for a little bit, Greg biting on his lower lip to try and stop the impending stream of emotions that painfully stung his eyes and Grissom quietly watching him. It wasn't long until Greg started chocking on the air, obviously not able to calm his breathing. Grissom had counted on this and, grabbing the bottle and twisting off the cap, he slowly gave Greg the bottle of water.

"Here, Greg. Try and drink some water. It will help."

The tech made no real motion to try and grab it until Grissom put it in front of his eyes. It was then that he accepted the bottle with a trembling right hand and brought it slowly to his mouth, taking a few ginger sips of the cool liquid before lowering it. The bottle slipped from his hand suddenly and impacted the floor, spilling its contents onto the linoleum surface with the soft crunch of plastic. Greg let out an agonized sound and brought both hands to his head, grabbing a bit of his hair as he let the tears fall again.

Grissom didn't say anything to him. Instead, he reached down to the floor and picked up the bottle, moving it back to its spot next to the box of tissues and replaced the plastic lid. Grabbing a few tissues from the box, he placed them on top of the clear puddle, watching them soak up the liquid quickly. His young friend, however, watched the liquid and let out a strangled statement.

"S-sorry, Grissom."

The man in question gave him a searching look, trying to figure out what on earth this kid was mumbling about. He was at a loss, so he decided to try and make it simpler on the both of them and give a general statement.

"It's fine, Greg."

The tech made no indication that he had heard his boss. He instead brought his hands down to his face to hide his tears, now unable to hold back the tremors that rocked his body as he was ravaged with tears. The elder slowly put a hand on the tech's head, placing a gentle bit of pressure down when Greg made no move to pull away from him.

"I.." Greg started, having to take a few shuddering breaths before continuing, "I can't even hold onto a bottle any-anymore!"

That's when the wails started pure and simple, Greg crying his eyes out into his hands. Grissom made no move to embrace the boy out of concern for his injuries, but instead pulled a couple tissues from the box on the floor. Placing them momentarily on his knee, the anthropologist reached over to pull Greg's hands from his face, taking in the sight of the raw tear tracks that marked the pale skin. Grissom grabbed the tissues and put them into Greg's right hand.

The tech brought them to his face and began to try and dry the ever-coming tears while his boss just continued to watch him quietly, his hand now placed on Greg's shoulder closest to him. After a minute of watching the boy try to regain his breath, Grissom spoke.

"Greg, I know that this upset you, but holding everything in is not going to help. "

When there was no reply, Grissom quirked an eyebrow.

"Greg, everything's going to be fine. It'll stop, just like I promised. It'll be fine."

He had expected a reaction from Greg, but the reaction he got shocked him more than he had expected. Greg was flat out crying now, heels of his hands digging into his eyes to try and stem the flow. It was compassion that compelled Grissom to try and help the younger man and, as slowly as he could, he reached around and pulled Greg to him. The tensing was immediate was the catch in his breath was sharp, but Greg found that he couldn't resist the embrace a tentatively returned it, turning his head so his cheek rested on Grissom's shoulder. The elder man had on that familiar, long sleeved, light blue fabric dress shirt that he always wore, and his tech couldn't help but draw a strange comfort from its soft texture.

Grissom had shifted so he had one arm wrapped around Greg's shoulders while the other one bent between his shoulder blades so that Grissom's hand could hold onto the back of Greg's head. The younger had gathered small fistfuls of fabric on the elder's back and was clinging to him for everything he was worth, letting the hot tears drip onto his comforter's shoulder without any more complaints. He had let them flow now, the only sound of his distress being the soft sniffles that he let out every now and then when he would try to breathe a little too deeply.

The anthropologist had decided not to move too much with Greg clinging to him like this and settled for holding onto him and keeping the tremors from the boy's body from becoming too violent. He was slightly surprised that Greg actually allowed him to hold him, but he wasn't about to complain. On a professional level, he had grown well into his job. However, he still had a few doubts on a personal level. He wasn't entirely sure he had gained his team's trust.

He knew he had Sara's, he knew he had Nick's, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he had Catherine's, he was pretty sure he had Warrick's…. but he wasn't entirely sure when it came to Greg. The boy played and bantered with everyone- Grissom was no exception. There was no way to tell how much trust Greg had in him until now—and Grissom felt and odd sense of accomplishment when the tears soaked his shoulder. The only motion he made was to slightly move his hand to stroke Greg's hair—it was a small movement, but it seemed to be accepted by the tech who was slowly calming down.

When the sniffles dissolved into quiet hiccups, Grissom slowly released his hold on the twenty-seven-year-old and gently pushed him back, retrieving some more tissues from the box on the floor. Greg accepted them with a tired smile, bringing them up to wipe his eyes and cheeks dry.

"Better?"

That was the only thing Grissom had to say. Greg was shocked. He had just used the man as a towel for his babyish behavior, and that's all Grissom had to say?

It held enough point, though. Greg found that he did feel better now… and that he felt a lot less ashamed since his boss was taking it so calmly.

"Yeah," he replied after a moment, "…Thanks, Grissom. Thanks a lot for that."

His only reply was a slight incline of Grissom's head in his direction and a quirked eyebrow. The motion said a thousand things—a thousand things that Greg needed to hear.

Grissom stood from the couch silently and began to gather the things from the floor. The wet tissues that had soaked up the water were thrown away, the box put back in his desk, and the half-empty bottle of water put into Greg's hands. Greg managed a weak smile as he brought it (with both hands this time) to his lips to drink a little of it. He found that it actually did help and suddenly found himself embarrassed.

"Grissom… look, I…" he was stuttering, and stuttering wasn't something Greg did.

Grissom put himself back on the couch next to him, reaching out a strong hand to grip the other's knee in a gesture of warm understanding.

"It's fine, Greg," he said, thinking of how he had made that statement earlier, "Thank you for trusting me with that."

He got a shy smile in return and, feeling that his message had gotten through, he returned it, giving the knee a gentle squeeze before standing again.

"I think your shift is over now," he said absently.

"But-"

"No, Greg."

Greg quieted at the reprimand, knowing that tone.

"Go home and get some sleep. I'll have Nick clean up the glass in the lab and Hodges will retrieve any analysis from the systems," Grissom told him, "I want you to rest until tomorrow. If you think you can't handle the shift tomorrow, call in and you can have off."

Greg felt himself nodding, wincing slightly at the burning pain in his neck. Glancing at Grissom's clock, he realized that it was already 1:35 in the morning—a long ways past when he was supposed to take his pills. He wiped his face down again and looked at his boss for his opinion. Grissom grinned slightly and reached over to put a hand on the younger's head, ruffling the hair to its usual unruly state. He only moved his hand when Greg swatted at it.

"Perfect."

With a final smile, Greg stood, threw the tissues away, and made his way to the door. He paused when he grabbed the handle to turn around and look at Grissom, a look of slight fear on his face.

"Hey, Grissom… can you please not tell anyone?"

"About what?"

Greg thought he was seriously asking the question for a moment, but when he went to reply, he saw that all-too-familiar look of understanding in the man's eyes.

"Thanks."

With that, Greg was gone, heading down the hallway to the locker room where Nick greeted him with a loud:

"What up, G?"


End file.
